THE COTTAGE
Chapter 9
After what seemed hours, breathing returned to normal, though Caroline couldn't stop trembling.
“Adrenaline, Caroline,” Ned said. He looked at Tim whose brow was wet with sweat. “We all feel it.”
“Yes, Daddy, I understand it, but why can't I control it?” Her teeth chattered. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.
She looked over at Tim. “But how can we be sure they’re not lying in wait?” she pressed on.
“Shh, listen,” Tim said, putting a finger to his lips again. “Do you hear that?”
She listened intently. “Hear what?”
“That's just it,” Tim reassured her. “There’s nothing to hear. I think we are safe.”
“For now,” Ned warned. He looked worried.
“You are right.” Tim stood and pulled the pistol from its place in the wooden box on the shelf. “I know this old barn, every floorboard and every nook and cranny. He looked at her with a weak smile, trying to display a confidence he didn't really feel.
“So here’s the plan,” he said as he tucked the pistol into his waistband. “Ned, you stay here with Caroline …”
Ned started to interrupt, but Tim gave him a look. Its message was clear.
“As I was saying, I'll go up first. Check things out. The house, too. If I'm not back in about 10 minutes, the satellite phone is in the box. You can use it to bring help.”
Tim lifted the trapdoor. Cold air and barn smells rushed in. Ned and Caroline breathed the fresh air, relieved.
Ned turned off the lantern. In the darkness, he could feel Caroline’s probing eyes. “Just to be on the safe side,” he said.
The two listened and waited. The old barn creaked and groaned above them as Tim searched. Then they heard the barn door close.
Caroline and Ned sat very still, listening but not speaking. Ned could feel Caroline bouncing her knee. Up and down. It was a habit from childhood, whenever she was frightened. This time, the rhythm was a metronome, keeping time, waiting for Tim.
Finally, he returned. “All clear,” he said, taking Caroline's hand as she quickly climbed the ladder. She took a deep breath and stretched. Ned followed.
“I never thought I'd be so happy to see this old barn.” Ned stretched his legs. The cramping eased.
Caroline looked at Tim, “Are you sure, Tim?” There was fear in her voice.
“Well, their car is gone anyway. I went through the house. Everything looks untouched.”
With watchful eyes on their surroundings, they returned cautiously to the house. Once inside, Ned raced upstairs while Caroline put the coffee on. When he returned, Caroline was shocked to see a gun in his hand as he raced out.
“Be back in a bit,” he said, looking into Caroline's eyes. Oh, how he hated what he saw in her big blues. Guilt flooded over him. “Don't worry, honey. Tim’s here.” He looked at Tim, “It's my turn now.”
Tim nodded.”We’ll make breakfast. I don't know about you guys, but all this excitement has made me hungry. How do you like your eggs, Ned?”
“Over easy,” he said over his shoulder. The door slammed, but the quiet that followed wasn’t peace. It was the cottage listening.
The cup slid from Caroline's hand, shattering on the floor. “I'm sorry,” she whispered.
“No worries, Tim replied, as he bent to gather the shards. “Unless it's the last cup in the kitchen.” He smiled as he stood.
“It's not.” Her smile was forced. “I'm just a bundle of nerves.”
“You sit. I'll make the eggs. How do you like them?” he asked as he poured cream in her coffee. “Over easy, too?”
“Yes … but I can't eat now.”
Tim rummaged in the cookware cabinet, ignoring her.
He knows how I like my coffee. He knows where I keep the pots and pans. Caroline watched as this stranger made eggs and toast as though he’d lived here a long time. She sipped the coffee. It warmed her as it went down. The shivers quieted. She realized he was comforting her. He placed eggs and buttered toast on the table for both of them.
Tim’s hand gripped the coffee pot tightly. His stomach lurched. Just for a second. The pot grew heavy in his hand.
“Caroline?”
She blinked.
“Would you like another cup?” He stood next to her with the pot.
“Oh, yes, please. Thank you.”
They ate in silence.
“I didn't think I was hungry, but these eggs are delicious,” she said sopping up egg with a piece of toast.
“I'm glad you like them,” he replied. His plate was already empty.
“Caroline, can I ask you a personal question?” He looked at her curiously.
“Well, I guess that depends on the question, doesn't it?” She was suddenly alert. The panic abated.
“Why are you here?”
“What?” She gripped the coffee cup. “I could ask the same question of you.”
“Yes, you could,” he smiled. "And perhaps we’ll get to that.”
She looked at him. He’s trying to solve a puzzle. “You already know this is my father’s cottage. It's been in the family for more than a century.”
“But I sense there’s more to the story, something you're holding back. Am I right? Most folks wait until summer to come. You know, when the weather is nice,” he offered.
“Perhaps I happen to like early spring. In fact, I spent most of my life coming with the entire clan in winter, for Christmas—until …” She stopped, looking at her hands. She grew very quiet.
“Until …?” His voice was gentle, soft.
Caroline’s eyes welled with tears. She said nothing.
Tim waited.
Then, she said, “Until the car accident.” Her breath caught. “My husband… my daughter ....” She swallowed hard in an effort to control the tears. “They died. I … I was in a coma for 2 months.” She looked up into his eyes. “I have no memory of it, only what I was told.”
Silence.
When she finally glanced up, she saw real pain in his eyes. Empathy, or was it something more? His face was softer than before. Something … she didn't expect.
He hesitated, searching for the words. “My son, my wife. They died in a car accident a year ago.” He stood abruptly, knocking the chair back. Anger replaced his sadness.
Startled, she wiped her tears. She stood. “Tim,” she said, “I don't,” she began.
He turned away and pressed both hands against the counter. His shoulders trembled. For several long seconds he couldn’t speak.
“Caroline, my family was murdered! It was not a car accident!”
“Oh, God, Tim, what can I say? I'm so, so sorry.” She paused, shocked.
“But why?” She reached out for him. He stepped back, as if running from his anguish.
Their eyes locked. Despair meeting despair. Then understanding meeting understanding. He brushed a tear from her cheek and pulled her into his arms. “Oh, Caroline, you have suffered so much. I am so sorry. I guess we are both running.”
The embrace held, two people entwined in the same story, sharing their tragedies, and their tears.
His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. “There’s more Caroline. A secret.” He choked out the words. “They were murdered because I know something I shouldn't.” His shoulders were wracked by emotion as he buried his head in her hair.
Her hair became damp with his tears, but she didn't notice. She tightened her embrace. He whispered, They died because of me!”
Outside, a second flashlight beam cut through the dark — not from the tree line where Ned had gone, but from the far side of Ned’s car. It washed over the windshield, held there, then snapped toward the barn and vanished. The barn door whined.
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